I wake up tired. Stinging, aching, burning, Sore-
good morning, ceiling
of drywall sky.
I wish I could curl up, warm, tight, soft, light-
goodbye, life.
I'm ready to die.

"Not yet, you have stuff to do today"

He chants in whispy grounded words.
Wordy biting, chilling curse:
Imaginary friend of mine, a lifeline all the same.
Whisper what you want from me, don't leave! I'm not a game.

He played me yet again, I see.
I'm as alive as any gal can be.
I went through days waiting for him,
but he only comes when the sky is drywall.
When my world is aching, quaking, shaking- Melting at the touch.
He only comes when I need a hero,
SuperStagnant, comin' in for the clutch.
I hate you.
Yet I need you.
We saved me,
Now I'll leave you.
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For Christopher, my imaginary friend since I was 9. I miss you.